


an alto for the typical soprano

by joeri



Series: commissions [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crying, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Pegging, Size Queen Felix Fraldarius, is that a tag yet? it is now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joeri/pseuds/joeri
Summary: All she knows is that she’s stroking this toy, stroking herself, conflating the two until it clicks and she’s bucking her hips up with the thrusting motion she’s begun to learn. All she knows is she’d die to see Felix, tapered and serrated Felix all worn down into his baser elements for her to see.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: commissions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547167
Comments: 8
Kudos: 148





	an alto for the typical soprano

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at writing Annette and hope that I was able to do her justice. Cute girls domming is good content.

There’s a side to Felix, Annette is desperate to get through to. It steals glances at her when the two of them are tumbling between the sheets and her fingers hook in accident around a lock of his hair, tugging until he’s a wince and a gasp. He’s a flash of ire too but she can see through like cellophane. When Felix is bolted down to the couch by her tickling fingers, the experts that they are at taking him down, she wonders how easily she could take him apart. He’s beautiful and soft. No amount of embarrassed doublespeak can convince her otherwise: Felix couldn’t be rough with her if she begged him to.

But Annette? Makes a show of it to herself when he’s gone to bed before her, circling her fingers around her clit with an eager fascination, imagining the toy on her lap could be any extension of herself, imagining what it’d feel like to have Felix under her. He’s such a pretty thing, fun to make blush, wonderful to make laugh… 

She’d kill to make him cry.

These thoughts are unexplored and heavy.

Felix for all of his propensity for denseness can’t be _completely_ blind to the signs, not when by his own omission he’s been utterly seduced by her, held captive as if his will has nothing to say in the matter. It’s something of a power trip she feels in the reddest parts of her heart. It makes her heart race faster, knowing she can have him around her finger, _wanting to feel him around her finger._

Or… perhaps that’s merely the man drowning in his mulishness, unwilling to admit that he’s just as painfully poetic as his best friend Dimitri Blaiddyd is. It’d fall in line with his interests as of late, Annette has to say. With their friendship newly repaired, they _have_ been attending that poetry club.

Still, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t salivate at the idea of making him cough up those words, spit them out in a moment of ecstasy, sing them out like a hymn…

“Gosh, _now_ who’s getting poetic,” she says to herself, holding her toy in hand: alarmingly cyan blue, painstakingly large, outfitted with enough ridges to give a vibration with every slide in and out. Annette’s fucked herself on it before, but she much prefers this use for it if she can ever get the chance. Their relationship is green as can be. There’s all the time in the world for her to vocalize this pleasure.

Annette has already had him inside of her, and all she’s been able to think of is how much more fun she has when she’s riding on top, holding him down, dropping her body over top of his until he’s begging to come, snatching her waist, spending his all. It’s the desperate look in those eyes. Everything about Felix Fraldarius screams _desperate_ to her—she’s certain he’s never been touched by anyone else before, but she’s never really bothered to ask.

All she knows is that she’s stroking this toy, stroking herself, conflating the two until it clicks and she’s bucking her hips up with the thrusting motion she’s begun to learn. All she knows is she’d die to see Felix, tapered and serrated Felix all worn down into his baser elements for her to see. Annette licks her lips and mumbles a little song to herself as she works.

As God and all her angels would have it, she hasn’t got the gumption to ask Felix of this. She plays by herself, her fingers slickly skating across her clit as her free hand thumbs the head of the strap-on, drags down the length, squeezes and pumps. The more it feels like her own, the more she can see it in her mind’s eye: Felix struggling to take it in—Felix wincing and resisting the urge to shut his legs—Felix letting her open himself up more, splaying his body open like butterfly wings, her delicate hands pressing patterns into the fleshy sides of his knees—Felix crying out around her as she pounds into him deeper and _deeper_ —

“You… even sing when you’re by yourself,” calls out a voice, sheepish and almost shivery.

It’s a tone Annette seldom hears, and her head yanks up on her neck at the sound of it.

Felix is in the doorway, his bag shrugged off his shoulder and collapsed in a heap at his feet. _How does he always manage to sneak up on her?_ The man moves like a ghost, even draped in a scarf and a cozy brown fur parka for the winter. Surely, he has keys for his car, a chain attached to his wallet—had she really been so engrossed in the fantasy to not notice him?

And for the record, she wasn’t _singing_. She was more like… humming. The humming turning to mumbling, sultry echoes of Felix’s name whilst envisioning him laid out beneath her with his face all pink, neck bare and marked up well. Maybe she looks something similar herself, nigh humiliated by the sudden intrusion, rutabaga red in the face, shoulders tinted from past excursions.

As Felix’s eyes predictably gravitate and float around those tell-tale marks, he’s really no stranger to leaving love all over her neck. It’s just… new and exciting to find out, probably, that she’d like to have her turn.

She can’t know. She can’t possibly know what he’s thinking, except… he doesn’t seem disgusted, turned off or distant from her. In fact, in the time it takes her to speak up, he’s crossed the threshold to her as she scrambles to sit up. The dick bobs against her stomach, jostles in the air and she catches Felix ogling it. She mirrors that hunger. Annette finds herself glad for it as he starts pulling his scarf off and draping it over the chair sat at the desk in the corner of the bedroom.

If only she could fluster him so.

“Y-you… I didn’t hear you come in, Felix!”

“I sure heard you,” he grouses painlessly. “Enjoying yourself?”

“How can you be so… nonplussed about it?” Annette barks, throwing her arms around.

“Nonplussed?” he parrots, as if considering her word choice. Felix’s eyes point upwards as he continues to disrobe, jacket discarded as he rolls up the sleeves of his button-up. “Should I be surprised or… upset or something?”

“No,” she argues with a pout, thinking to herself that Felix always takes forever to get himself out of those clothes, typically collapsing onto the couch and peeling it off layer by layer across the course of a few hours unless she’s stripping it off him. No, she can tell that underneath the stoic demeanor, he’s intrigued by what he sees.

Annette straightens her back some, unfolding her knees from where she’d tried to hide herself and her toy away, and she watches as Felix’s eyes seem to drag the rest of his head as he captures the movement, _rapt._ His Adam’s apple bobs. Annette can see the cogs turning in his brain as his mouth shifts into a thin, trembling line and he glances away again to tug off a watch, let it clatter to the desk. Annette’s eyes run down his body and stop above his crotch. She takes to stroking her toy, shivering up into the touch as if she could feel every inch of it.

“You should feel lucky,” she decides, voice slipping into a deeper register, one she doesn’t take to often—an alto for the typical soprano.

“Come again?” says Felix, and she can’t actually tell if he’s being funny or if he really couldn’t hear.

She’s licking her lips this time with a modicum more enthusiasm, more confidence as she shuffles onto her knees, her impudently jutting out strap gaining his attention. It’s got a nice curve. Annette thinks Felix can appreciate the arc of it.

“I think you should come here,” she mutters, a tad louder but still gaining in volume. Surely, she can do better than that. Annette’s gathering her nerve steadily, gauging Felix’s reaction as he turns to face her completely, one hand flat against the chair back.

They’ve never brought up the idea of this before, but Annette doesn’t think they need to with the way she’s dancing her fingers against the tip of the toy, taking in the sight of Felix’s eyes fixating to it—only ever pulling themselves away when he’s making eye contact and seemingly regretting it by the flush that fills his cheeks.

Embarrassed? Perhaps.

Excited?

_Well._

“Is that an order?” Felix asks, the ghost image of a smirk playing at the lines in his cheeks, and Annette can think he’s being sarcastic or she can call his bluff, grip her strap at the base and beckon him to it.

“It is,” says Annette, pleasant and airy.

She almost expects him to roll his eyes, take a seat and ignore the offer but possibly to the surprise of them both he comes traipsing over. The bed dips with Felix’s weight, his single knee in the bedspread denting the mattress as he leans against the headboard.

Spoken simply, “what next?”

Annette peers up at her boyfriend, thinking he’s anything but imposing with his top buttons undone, his slacks rising up his knees, the fabric contorting around the stress in his briefs—

She gets a hand in his hair and takes to pulling his ponytail undone, watching him flinch, wince as a knot catches on her finger. She drinks it in. She pulls him down to her level and whispers, “be a good boy for me?”

Felix’s eyes dilate. He sucks a breath in suddenly. Annette fights back a grin. Fuck, it arouses her just to _say_ that to him. Imagine how good it sounds to hear it, she wonders, and before she can wait for further permission she’s fumbling one hand down to palm at him, splaying her fingers against the unsightly bulge in his work pants. Her own eyes wild with desire, she kisses him once fast and kisses him twice on the neck, hard, mouth sucking and hands roaming. Felix gasps out something wretched, something thirsty and unearthed from a part of him he might’ve not even been privy to. It makes Annette smile, teeth in his throat.

Ever the one to just _feel_ and not speak, not put name to it, not embarrass himself with the particulars, Felix lets Annette do her thing. He lets her stroke him through his pants, finger her delicate digits past the hem and inspire him to take to unclasping his belt for her. She needn’t even ask. Before long she’s got him panting in her grasp, marked up like she’s always wanted, warm cock throbbing in her steady palm. Annette swirls a tongue around his collarbone, squeezing his length, bringing it up to her own. They bustle together and nudge. She strokes. He goes hoarse in the throat and whines.

“Felix is being a little _too_ good for me,” she sings.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffs, messy indigo flooding his features, obscuring bits of her handiwork as it clings to the sweat on his neck. “Do you really want me to not want this?”

The question almost comes out jagged, frustrated, but Annette just has to laugh. She’s past growing offended at his rougher bits.

“I just think it’s so funny,” she cooes, “how much you _do_ want this.”

Annette smiles wide, watching as Felix is biting his lips mum, eyes cautiously gauging the size disparity between his own cock and her toy. For all the work that Annette has to do in order to take Felix, the little mice in his brain are running around once more, she thinks, carefully considering the work he’d have to do to actually take her. She’s blissful when she watches him sweat, watches him whine and fiend for it.

“Shut up,” he puffs. “I’m doing this for you.”

“Let me prep you, then,” she mouths into his throat. “Get undressed.”

Sooner than later, Felix is dropping his trousers. Before he can properly pluck his boxer-briefs all the way off, Annette is fixing her mouth to his cock and ushering his quickly melting body to the bed. A few aborted yelps fall out of him, something or other about impatience but… she’s hiking his thighs up with a strength Felix has only heard tell of, and she’s tossing the briefs off herself, up and over his toes as her hands and mouth take to his sensitive, overworked body.

God, he’s been out at the office _all day_ , huh? Annette thinks this is as much a treat for herself as it is for him, taking turns licking tender stripes against his cock as she reaches for the nightstand. Lubricant is far from necessary when Annette herself is something of a waterfall when Felix does it right, but luckily they have it for those times when Annette’s feeling adventurous. She squirts some into her hand and the sound of the bottle has Felix’s eyes cracking open, his body wiggling in place as he strains to glance down at her.

“C-careful,” he hisses in what seems to be split second anxiety, something Annette knows only grows each time he peeps a glance at what she’s packing.

Yes, it’s big. Annette pecks a kiss to his thigh. She wouldn’t have bought it for him if it wasn’t. With a curious precision, all the ardor of a woman who’s dying to make a beautiful boy breathless, Annette’s hooking a finger inside and watching as Felix writhes out around it. She’s working him open without so much as a word. He’s so high strung. A thousand year’s worth of tension is uncoiling around her knuckles as she takes to opening him wide. He’s choking back moans behind a fist. In between lathering his hole up with care, she’s lathering the base of his cock with little kisses, little licks, watching him whimper and hold his breath back for ransom. No, he never does like to make too much noise, does he? Annette aims to change that.

As she’s lubing herself up and angling her hips just right, Felix catches her eye. Felix is panting and waiting with abandon, his half-lidded eyes bolted to her cock. He’s flush with desire, his neck and shoulders too many shades of sunset as he quivers beneath her. Annette takes a deep breath, this is what she’s been waiting for.

“You look so good,” she says.

“Just… get it over with,” he mumbles, the sheer _want_ in his voice bordering on incoherence. She’s never seen him so… _horny._

“Oh, do you really want it over that fast?” asks Annette, laughing in an exhale, tapping her fingers against his knee. The pressure of her toy begins to blossom at his hole and Felix bends his back into it. “Can you take it all at once?”

“Shut up,” he remarks again. “I’ve always wanted this.” It spills out of him like the corner of a bag tearing, like an accident, and then he’s covering his mouth as she dives into him.

And the strain, oh, she can _see_ Felix’s toes curl as she pushes inside of him. Annette watches her cock disappear between his legs, delving deep into a place where she can’t quite feel, but she can see his reactions, the way he croaks out a moan, strangled and worn from high in his throat. Felix shudders as she bottoms out, the weight of her body pressing flush against his thighs. He moans brokenly, the sound all pinched and stressed in his chest.

“Anne… _Anne_ —”

God, and he’s even tearing up at the width, his amber eyes frothing over. Annette shushes at him.

“Who knew you could take it so well?”

Felix is whining in reply, his larger body bending so pliantly for Annette. His cock leaks out helplessly against his belly. His hands are fisting the sheets with every breath shaking his frame apart. Annette leans down to kiss a tear away.

“Is it good?”

“ _It’s so much_ ,” he confesses, legs jittering in her grasp.

“You look so good, Felix,” Annette whispers, voice gentle as velvet, sweet as honeysuckle. “You’re so beautiful, fucked open like this.”

Those words fall out too simple, too easy. Annette rotates her hips and pulls out an inch, sinks in somehow further. Felix just makes a little, “ _ah—!_ ”

Annette’s digging her nails into his thighs, fucking into him. “It fills you up just right, doesn’t it?” And Felix can’t answer. Felix can barely breathe. Only the slick sounds of her cock flooding his hole give back an answer, and the way he’s arching himself off the bed is proof enough. Annette pets the aching head of his cock, thrusting inside with a steady rhythm.

“You’re loosening up so much,” she giggles, heart swelling with pride. “You love getting fucked, don’t you?” It’s asked so earnestly that Felix can’t lie. He’s belting out little cries, little notes with every thrust. “You love your girlfriend’s big, thick cock, huh?”

Felix curls his lips behind his teeth, curls his body up against hers, prays his mind will stay inside his body. Annette strokes him in time, voice turning frantic—“it’s gonna make you come, huh, Felix?”

Tears shiver down his cheeks, and he nods wordlessly, _powerlessly_. He comes messy and quiet, save for the few shrieks he makes in between gasps of breath. Annette makes no effort to steer, letting him coat his own stomach and chest in his spend. Body rattling, collapsing, Felix gulps in air and eventually loses life in all his limbs. Annette lets his legs down, crowding at her hips as she lets him ride the high down.

It’s not until she’s about to pull out that Felix moves to touch her, his wet fingers snatching up her wrists tight and fast. His eyes closed, his head pressed into the rumpled up pillowcase, he mouths out a thanks.

It’s soft, it’s weak. Muddled in the middle is something affectionate. Annette’s panting herself, her clit thankfully pressed flat against the strap. Yet to come, she quavers and smiles with a nudge.

“No, thank _you._ ”


End file.
